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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451188">Shout It Out for Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed/pseuds/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed'>OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Oasis (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, little mention of blood, this is the closest to hurt/comfort they'll get I guess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:02:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed/pseuds/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam wrecks a hotel room for Noel.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shout It Out for Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No smut for once! I'm surprised too.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noel closes the door so softly that it echoes more purposefully through Liam’s head than if he’d slammed it. It makes the silence that he’s left with so loud and he hates how it smells of Noel. Silence is his thing, he uses it to shush Liam’s loudness, drones over it with endless notes of quiet. Even when he gets loud when they fight his voice is always quieter than Liam’s, doesn’t stand a chance against him, even when he’s shouting at the top of his lungs, and still he’ll have wrestled Liam to the ground by the end of it. When he hasn’t left before, that is. Then his absence is doing the wrestling for him, then he doesn’t even have to lift a finger to have Liam down.</p><p> </p><p>He has left this time and already Liam feels the empty corners of Noel’s hotel room tugging at him, dragging him to similar corners in his mind where he doesn’t want to go, at least not alone. But he won’t be going there, not now when Noel has made the fatal mistake of leaving Liam in <em>his </em>room with all <em>his </em>things. He’s going to make some more noise instead, see if Noel’s silence can cover that up.</p><p> </p><p>Where to start? Sometimes Liam likes to think that this is his art. Noel writes songs, he wrecks hotel rooms. It’s all the same really. He’s going to need a line first though. Noel started to hide his coke from him after he caught him one too many times snorting the better part of it. But Liam knows him better than he likes to think and Noel’s never been that creative in that respect anyways. There’s a sock with a suspicious lump on top of his suitcase. He must really take Liam for next level stupid if he thinks that’s a safe hiding place.</p><p> </p><p>Half of the little sack makes a good two fat lines and up his nostrils they go. Maybe he’ll leave Noel a bit, but maybe he’ll empty the rest over the floor instead like sugar over too sour strawberries. See how desperate Noel can get, because he won’t be getting nothing off Liam, not when he’s been this tight with his drugs the last year. But that’s a decision for later, for now the bag sits safely in the pocket of his shirt, right over his heart.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a vase with a bunch of yellow and pink flowers on the little table in the corner and Liam takes them out before he kicks over the little table, sending the vase shattering to pieces over the floor. That’s good. He’s getting in the mood, and when he was feeling cold before, caught up in Noel’s bitterness, then now he’s feeling warm. Hot even and not only because his foot is hurting now and sending out a warming kind of pain from his toes up to his ankle. It’s just so satisfying to do something about it, about all this mess, and see in the outside world what he’s thinking inside.</p><p> </p><p>The stems of the flowers are dripping water over his hand and it feels itchy. He goes to kick over the chair. It’s solid, doesn’t splinter like the ones in their early cheap hotels, but he can drag it over there and hurl it into the little dresser. That’s a nice crack and that’s a nice dent where the drawer is now hanging askew.</p><p> </p><p>He drifts over to Noel’s suitcase and drops the flowers, grabs as many clothes as fit in his arms. Some he only gets by a bit of the hem and they’re hanging down to his feet, stretching and tearing when he steps on them. What doesn’t get torn by his angry shoes piles up to his face and fills his nose with Noel’s scent, the one he’s had since he was 16 and still reminds Liam of childhood. That’s going out the window then. Right, but leave one hanging on the sill so he can see. Pretty like a flag and if it’s Liam’s favourite jumper of Noel’s then so be it, he decides now what Noel will keep and what gets thrown out. See how he likes having someone telling him around.</p><p> </p><p>He’s itching for more and well, there’s a television. Never been shy of clichés and what for if they’re true anyway? It sits heavy in his arms, has him proper staggering over the strewn out clothes and for one swaying second he feels like he’ll go over with it. But he stays behind the window frame and watches it shatter on top of Noel’s clothes that went out earlier. Nice and loud.</p><p> </p><p>He’s getting thirsty now, so over to the minibar it is. Seems like Noel hasn’t had a chance yet to do a tasting, everything’s still full in stock. Which means that Liam’s about to have his own little tasting, if pouring two cans of beer straight down his throat counts as that. At least he’s also getting some of the champagne. Noel might be a multimillionaire now with probably a dozen millions more than Liam, but he still gets so stingy over every little hint of indulgent behaviour from Liam. Shouldn’t have fucked off then, the champagne pours down Liam’s throat just as fast as the beer.</p><p> </p><p>He’s still thirsty, but there’s so much to be done still. The bed looks like it’s thirsty, too, so Noel’s pillow gets a nice taste of the rest of his champagne. He can lick it off from there tonight if he’s so bothered about not wasting things, can press his dirty little face right in and drain every last drop out of it just like he does with Liam. Fucking vampire. He won’t have a blanket left to cover his cold body, Liam decides when his hands grip the silky fabric and pull it off the mattress. Damn hotel sheets always making him feel like he’ll slip right out of them again.</p><p> </p><p>Those he’ll slip out of the window as well. Fluttering prettily on their way down onto the heads of some nervously staring hotel staff. They get the finger then, one on each hand for fucking Americans, and then he’s next to the bed again, in front of the bedside table and that pretty bedside lamp. Painted glass looking like it could do with some drops of Rock 'n' Roll star blood so he rips it out of the wall and smashes it back against it, so he can gather up the shards and throw them all over Noel’s bed. His fingers sting with little cuts and he wipes them down on the mattress, leaving light red stains on the shiny white. Just like a painter, he can do all those swirls and strokes as well, talk about putting their heart in it when Liam’s squeezing out his own blood.</p><p> </p><p>He feels a little dizzy now and sits down next to the bed, back leaned against the frame. It’s not comfortable, but suddenly the way over to the one armchair he’s left standing feels so far and not like something his legs, or his hands and knees, can manage. It’s prettier surrounded by the glittering glass anyway. Maybe he’s the artwork after all, should think so with Noel always staring at him when he thinks Liam isn’t looking. But Liam’s always looking, for Noel he’s got eyes at the back of his head. His eyes are fluttering shut now, he should get another line in if he wants Noel staring at them first thing when he comes back. Or if he comes back. The cunt might’ve fucked off to San Francisco again. Well, then Liam definitely needs another line.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t do one. The button of his pocket where he’s put the little bag won’t open and his fingers don’t fit through the little slits at the sides. Closing his eyes and dropping his arms at his sides then and maybe flirting with sleep a little. Or having a full-on shag rather – he wakes up to changed light and longer, darker shadows covering his work. And Noel. Opposite him in the armchair. He holds the jumper Liam left on the windowsill and one of the flowers Liam dropped next to his suitcase. His feet are surrounded by petals like he’s been playing <em>he loves me, he loves me not</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Liam can hear him breathing quietly over the air conditioning. Slow and calm like he’s one of them meditating monks, not like he’s Liam’s always-angry brother sitting in the middle of a ruin that Liam tore down for him. The last two sunrays of the day that have found their way through the window light up his face and Liam wonders how he can stare right into the light with his eyes wide open. His own eyes still feel heavy, but they’re not closing now. Noel is too close for them to not find their way to him and cling to his sunlit glowing face.</p><p> </p><p>Noel turns and shadows fall over his face, but his eyes still look bright like he’s sucked up the light and saved it in batteries right behind his irises. “Finally decided to wake up?”, he says and his soft voice sounds like a trap but he’s hiding nothing behind his back, his hands are still filled with his jumper and the slightly pitiful looking flower. Liam blinks at him and Noel asks, “had a busy afternoon, I take it?” <em>It was a busy afternoon</em>, Liam wants to tell him, <em>look what I’ve had to do – that’s all your things, and all by myself</em>. His breathing speeds up and his throat rumbles around empty noises and Noel nods. “I know”, he says. Quietly, but sincere. Like he does know.</p><p> </p><p>He gets up then and looks so tall above all the splinters and shards, almost like he could crush Liam under his foot should he raise it and step on him. He lays down the flower where he’s sat, carefully like putting a child to sleep, and walks over to Liam, shoes cracking on the scattered glass. Liam wants to get up, but Noel sits down next to him before he can. Liam’s side feels hot where Noel’s arm is brushing against his and he can’t keep still any longer and has to turn and look at him. Noel is playing with the jumper in his hand, pulling at and twisting it and Liam gets scared that his ring will get caught in a thread and start to unravel the whole thing. “Don’t, you’ll ruin it”, he tells Noel.</p><p> </p><p>Noel looks up at him and Liam expects to hear <em>oh, so like you’ve ruined all of my other clothes then?</em> but Noel only smirks a little and says, “would have to start wearing your clothes then, wouldn’t I? I’ll better be careful.” And he holds the jumper up and folds it the way he showed Liam when he was old enough that their mam wouldn’t tell him what to wear anymore but still too young to take care of his clothes properly. Noel puts it up on the bed when he’s satisfied with the result and raises an eyebrow at Liam as if to ask <em>better? </em>It is better, Liam can see the blue fabric blink safely at him from above Noel’s head.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you do?”, Liam asks him. Noel shrugs, “shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He glances around the room and still Liam expects him to lose it any second now, expects Noel to get up and try to stomp him into the ground, grind him into the broken glass until he’s nothing but shattered pieces himself. But Noel smiles at him and in his eyes Liam reads <em>pride</em>. “I –“, Liam begins, not sure where he’ll end up. He holds up his hands and shows the little cuts on his fingers to Noel. “I got myself stung”, he tells him and gestures to the shards around them. “Oh Liam”, Noel says, but he doesn’t sound annoyed, he sounds content and pleased, and he takes Liam’s hands in his and pulls them to his mouth. His lips press into the cuts and it hurts a little because Noel’s lips are wet and he adds little licks of tongue between his kisses.</p><p> </p><p>He keeps holding Liam’s hands when he leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. He lingers there, kisses the spot just below and the one next to that and Liam feels his skin tingle with Noel’s attention until he can’t take it anymore and turns his face to make Noel’s mouth land right on his. And Noel leans right in, opens his mouth and licks inside Liam’s, filling it with warm satisfied sighs.</p>
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